A POW`s Account of the Loss of Athabaskan in 1944

Kriegsgefangenenlager:
A POW’s Account of the Loss
of Athabaskan in 1944
Kriegsgefangenenlager, roughly translated, is German for
‘English prisoner of war.’ And this is the story of Able
Seaman Harry Liznick and fellow shipmates who served
in HMCS Athabaskan, lost to enemy action in 1944. This
is also the story of the short life of Athabaskan, a powerful British-built Tribal-class destroyer which, along with
sister ships Haida, Huron and Iroquois, played a pivotal
role in the English Channel, engaging and wearing down
enemy naval forces, in the days leading up to the D-Day
invasion.
Liznick, a thoughtful and observant man, articulated his
wartime experience in a series of articles titled “Kriegsgefangenenlager,” published in his hometown newspaper, The
Iroquois Falls Enterprise.1 This article is a shorter version
of a paper recounting the highlights of the stories of both
Liznick and Athabaskan, supported by the commentary
of other shipmates as well as official scholarship.
First generation Ukrainian-Canadian Harry Liznick was
15 when Hitler’s army invaded Poland. His European
parents had witnessed German aggression first hand in
1914 while working in Germany before immigrating to
Canada. They listened to the 1939 news with trepidation. Harry couldn’t wait to sign up and bided his time
farming, working in logging camps and mining in nearby
Timmins until of age. As he wrote, “[b]y March 1942, the
war was getting pretty bad as Hitler had taken quite a few
countries and had bombed the hell out of England, and
was well into Russia and thoughts were going on in my
young mind that we would all be enslaved and I had better
join up and help fight that Bastard.”
A handsome, affable and a strapping young man, who
could unload two box cars of logs in six hours during an
eight hour shift, Liznick followed three older brothers to
war. He liked the look of his brother Bill’s blue uniform
so he put an application into the Royal Canadian Navy
(RCN) and was accepted. Along with Jimmy Campbell
from his hometown of Iroquois Falls, Ontario, Liznick
soon found himself “marching up and down the streets in
Ottawa” in his bell bottom trousers, jumper, singlet and
traditional flat hat – the object of admiring glances from
“all the girls.”
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Following basic naval training
at HMCS Cornwallis, Harry was
“drafted” to sentry duty at the
Dartmouth refinery and French
Cable Wharf in Halifax. Bored,
he wrote: “I hated it. What a way
to spend the war.” His complaints
were short lived as he was soon
posted to HMCS Athabaskan
then under repair in England
following a German glider bomb
attack on a Canadian-British
support group near Gibraltar.
By November 1943 Athabaskan,
was “ready to sail and fight,” and
she deployed to the Mediterranean to escort the British battlecruiser HMS Renown carrying Prime Minister Winston
Churchill back from the Cairo
Conference. Upon her return
to England, Athabaskan sailed
immediately to escort convoy JW
5A out of Scotland to Murmansk
in the Soviet Union on 12
December. The convoy’s track Ordinary Seaman Harry Liznick
on sentry duty in Halifax, 1942.
would have brought it dangerously close to occupied Norway and German-infested
waters, and especially close to the German battlecruiser
Scharnhorst. Underway, Athabaskan intercepted a radio
transmission with a German U-boat that was shadowing
the convoy in the vicinity of Bear Island south of Spizbergen. Giving chase, Athabaskan “dropped a pattern of
depth charges” but abandoned the search to return and
protect the convoy “when our Asdic lost contact.” Athabaskan’s captain, Lieutenant-Commander John Stubbs
said that “the next time we would ram her at all cost.”2
The war was becoming quite interesting for Able Seaman
Liznick.
Caught in a major blizzard outbound from Murmansk
Athabaskan was part of the ‘home fleet’ flotilla that
participated in action that would change the course of
Photo: Liznick files
Pat Jessup
Photo: Courtesy of Wolfgang Worpahl
Our 4.7 inch guns could fire nine miles while their 11 inch
guns could fire 20 miles.”
In the raging storm, Commander Harry DeWolf, Haida’s
captain, had the onerous task of marshalling the escorts
to ward off Scharnhorst as she approached the merchant
ships at the rear of the convoy. In response, the guns of the
Home Fleet pounded Scharnhorst and after a fierce eighthour battle the German ship was sunk by HMS Duke of
York.
With Scharnhorst gone, and the threat to the Arctic
convoys now much reduced, Athabaskan, Haida, Huron
and Iroquois with British Tribal HMS Ashanti and cruiser
HMS Black Prince, joined the 10th Destroyer Squadron
known as “the Fighting Tenth,” operating out of Plymouth,
England. The strike force conducted night sorties in the
English Channel, grinding away at enemy shipping and
their naval escorts prior to the invasion of Europe.
April 1944 was a busy month for Athabaskan. In addition
to her sorties she was also participating in pre-invasion
exercises. During the night of 24 April, participating in
Operation Tiger, Athabaskan provided close escort for
“hundreds of ships and thousands of our troops conducting landing drills … at Slapton Sands, near Cornwall….
The practice was quite successful … except two ‘E’ boats
sneaked in among our ships undetected and killed over
800 American troops with torpedoes fired into landing
craft.”
German glider bomb attack on HMCS Athabaskan.
the war in the Arctic. Passing in the storm and heading
north to Murmansk were 14 destroyers including sister
ships Haida, Huron and Iroquois escorting a convoy of
19 heavily laden merchant ships. Providing close cover
were the British cruisers Belfast, Sheffield, Norfolk and
the battleship HMS Duke of York. On Christmas Day,
the German battlecruiser Scharnhorst and escort of five
destroyers departed Altenfjord, Norway, to attack the
convoy. As Liznick recalled, “[w]e were oblivious to what
was going on in the land of the midnight sun and terrific
stormy weather with ice forming two to six inches thick
on the shrouds, guys and deck and making our ship top
heavy. We plodded on ... just another hazardous working
day for us.… At 06:15 hrs, Dec. 26th, alarm bells clanged”
and Athabaskan went to Action Stations. As he said, “[t]he
Scharnhorst [was] attacking the convoy! It was bad news
because we knew we were no match for a Battlecruiser.
The next evening the Black Prince, Ashanti, Huron, Haida
and Athabaskan set out in the direction of St. Malo hoping
to engage three T-22 class Elbing destroyers that had been
spotted during an earlier reconnaissance flight over the
French port. As luck would have it, the German ships
were detected by British land-based radar, underway and
making a dash at speed for Brest. The Tribals intercepted
the ships and during the battle sank T-29 and shelled both
T-24 and T-27 before they could retreat to safe haven. In
the heat of battle, Huron and Ashanti collided putting
them out of action until repairs could be made.
The sinking of T-29 by Canadian naval forces was considered a significant feat and brought a great sense of accomplishment to the ships’ companies and the Commanderin-Chief Plymouth. The action won both Stubbs and
DeWolf the Distinguished Service Order.
Three nights later, Haida and Athabaskan went out alone
to cover mine-laying operations near the tip of the Brittany peninsula. At 0238 Athabaskan’s radar picked up
“two small objects traveling at high speed” near the Isle of
Ushant. At the same time, Plymouth radioed “to intercept
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Photo: DND
The ship’s company of HMCS Athabaskan circa 1943. Commanding Officer, Lieutenant-Commander John Stubbs, centre with arms crossed.
at full speed.” Haida fired starshell, illuminating T-24
and T-27, 7,300 yards away. The two Elbings, sheltering
in Morlaix for repairs, were making a run for their home
base of Brest under the cover of darkness. Despite taking
evasive action, turning 30 degrees to present a reduced
target, a German torpedo found Athabaskan, blowing
off her stern and killing her after gun crews. With her
propulsion destroyed, Athabaskan was dead in the water.
Stubbs reported, “I’m hit and losing power,” and ordered
the crew to stand by to abandon ship. Athabaskan, on fire,
was taking on more water than her pumps could manage.
Before continuing the chase Haida laid a smokescreen to
protect Athabaskan from further attacks.
Ten minutes later a massive explosion amidships ripped
through the ship and slammed AB Liznick from his position on the starboard forward Oerlikon anti-aircraft gun
mounting into the bulkhead. Many of the crew, including
the captain, were catapulted over the side. Those remaining took to the cold Channel waters. Liznick remembers
the scene, “I could see fire for what seemed a hundred feet
above me. I lay there looking up and saw pipes, irons, huge
chunks of steel, away up in the air…. I thought to myself
that all this steel would kill me when it came down.” His
face burned, and fearing for his life, Liznick jumped over
the side. Athabaskan was listing to port. “Swimming for
all [his] worth,” Liznick looked back after 200 feet and
“watched as the stern went under and the bow came up
and the good old Athabaskan slid under and sank.” Those
trapped below deck, went down with the ship.
After chasing T-27 onto the rocks and setting her ablaze
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with gunfire, Haida returned to recover Athabaskan
survivors. Launching her boats, Carley floats and
scramble-nets, Haida’s crew managed to save 42 “dazed
and exhausted” oil-soaked men. Too far away to reach
safety, Harry Liznick joined the chorus of men in the
water hollering for help. It was to no avail and after
lying stopped for 18 minutes, Haida had to abandon the
rescue. Stubbs yelled from the water: “Get away Haida!
Get clear.”3 According to an account by Joseph Schull in
Far Distant Ships, “[h]ands clutching at her scramble-nets
lost their grip. Two of her own crew who had gone down
the net were washed off by the backrush and remained
in the water with the survivors they had not been able to
reach.”4 Dawn was approaching and Haida, close to the
enemy coast, was in great peril from aerial attack and
from nearby shore batteries. Miraculously Haida’s motor
cutter, after picking up six survivors sputtered across the
English Channel, arriving in Penzance, Cornwall, 30
hours later.
Last seen clinging to a Carley float was LieutenantCommander Stubbs, trying to buoy his crew’s spirits by
leading them in a sing-a-long and encouraging them to
move their arms and legs to keep their circulation going.
Covered in thick black bunker oil, the survivors fumbled
in the water trying to attach themselves to anything
that floated. “The oil seemed at least two inches thick. It
covered everything and we had a hard time to hang on to
anything. We swallowed a lot of water along with bunker
oil and our mouths were thick with grease,” Harry Liznick
recalled.
Photo: DND
We gagged and coughed continually.... For those
of us that were left behind our ordeal was just
beginning.... I could hear many of the seamen
yelling, moaning and crying for help. As time
went on ... things became quieter as the survivors
dozed off or were succumbing to exposure.... The
cold water was sapping our strength and made
us extremely drowsy.... I knew that if I let myself
sleep, I would die.
At dawn German ships, including T-24 and several minesweepers, set out to rescue survivors. Eighty-six were
recovered with T-24 picking up 47. Liznick recalled being
well-treated by the German sailors. While still at sea, the
survivors were given a shower and “slightly warm gruel”
to eat. “It was tasteless and ... looked like the paste we
used in primer school.” Stripped of their oily clothing, the
Athabaskans were issued French navy uniforms that had
been confiscated when the Germans took France in 1939.
The prisoners were herded below decks and confined
in the hold. On the way to Brest, “there was a very loud
explosion and we all looked startled and helpless as the
hatch above us was sealed tight. We could hear gunfire
above decks and did not know what it was. We heard later
that we were attacked by our planes.”5
who had recovered from their ordeal were crammed onto
trains for the four-day journey to Marlag und Milag Nord,
a prisoner of war (POW) camp for naval (Marlag) and
merchant (Milag) seamen, outside of Bremen, Germany.6
When news of Athabaskan’s loss reached Canada the fate
of her crew was still unclear. Harry Liznick’s mother fell
to the floor when she learned of the sinking. Iris Johnson,
the young wife of Chief Petty Officer (CPO) Ira Johnson,
Photo: DND
Landing in Brest to a gathering crowd of French onlookers and German officials, the Athabaskans were taken to
a makeshift hospital that had once been a convent. In the
same hospital were the wounded from T-29. “They stared
at us and we stared back.” Within days, the survivors
Lieutenant John Stubbs when he commanded HMCS Assiniboine.
Ink drawing of HMCS Haida rescuing Athabaskan survivors, Vice-Admiral Harry DeWolf Room, Bytown Mess, Ottawa.
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Photo: Liznick files
The Toronto Star, 5 May 1944, provided photos of the crew members from Ontario who were missing. When he was released, Harry Liznick made annotations on
the clipping about the fate of these men.
dreamt for months of her husband appearing at the foot
of their bed in Saint John, New Brunswick. He would tell
her not to worry, “I’m all right.”7 CPO Johnson survived.
While the 42 onboard Haida and the six in her launch
were accounted for, it would take months to reconcile the
whereabouts of the 213 still missing. It was known, however,
that in the following days, scores of dead Athabaskans
washed ashore on the coast of Brittany near Plouescat.8
By 7 July 1944, the International Red Cross was able to
confirm to the Royal Canadian Navy that 29 Athabaskan
officers and ratings had been taken as prisoners of war.9
Three months after becoming a Kriegsgefangenenlager,
Harry Liznick’s family received news in a postcard saying
that he was alive.
Credit: Liznick files
Upon reaching camp, the POWs spent the next six weeks
in solitary confinement, interrogated regularly by the
Gestapo. Liznick passed his time counting nails and
spaces between boards, pacing back and forth in his cell,
Drawing of Marlag und Milag Nord by an unknown POW.
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three-and-a-half steps each way, and weaving strings used
for stuffing his mattress. Talking was forbidden and whistling resulted in being pistol-whipped with a Luger. “It’s
easy to be tough with a guy when you have a gun in your
hands,” he recalled.
Food was sparse and consisted of two slices of schwartzbrot (black bread), a pat of margarine and a cup of ersatz
tea. Later the bread was scaled back to one slice per day,
with the prisoners expected to save half the slice for supper.
Liznick was especially challenged by the new ration and
said “[w]hat a laugh it is today. How could a starving man
keep anything that was edible for any length of time.”
Once out of solitary confinement the prisoners were
interned 16 to a room in a 16-room unheated, un-insulated
barrack. Apart from mustering for rollcall or ‘Appell’ three
times a day, life in the camp was relatively relaxed but boredom took its toll. As in the modern military, the arrival of
mail was much anticipated. Cigarettes were a particularly
hot commodity and were used in bartering. Inmates kept
up with the progress of the war by an electrically operated
radio acquired from the German guards by trading cigarettes. The cost – one radio, 5,000 cigarettes! Red Cross
food parcels, containing hard tack soda biscuits, canned
Klik, corned beef, cheese, chocolate bars, tea and coffee,
raisins and prunes were especially welcome. The POWs
would heat their food using the recycled Klik containers
over fires of scrap wood. Once a month the prisoners “got
Photo: Pat Jessup
a block of dehydrated sauerkraut” about
2½ inches square. As Liznick described it,
it was “hard as a rock! If you put this in a
pail of water, it swelled up and we’d have a
whole pail of sauerkraut.”10
After 11 months of captivity, the mood
in the camp changed as radio broadcasts
indicated that the Allies were approaching. Hearing artillery fire in the distance
and the occasional stray bullet in the
camp caused “quite a few prisoners to
dig trenches as a safety precaution.” On
25 April 1945, on the anniversary of the
sinking of T-29, the POWs awoke to find
the British Second Army had liberated the Athabaskan survivors onboard HMCS Sackville, July 2002. Harry Liznick is pictured third from the
camp, and that the ‘Kommandant’ had right.
surrendered. The guards had scattered to the winds. The the land. Harry Liznick and the 255 crew members of
Canadian POWs were flown by Lancaster to Horsham, Athabaskan, 128 of whom paid the ultimate price, contribEngland, to recuperate and then returned home in the uted much to ending the Second World War through their
Aquitania through New York City. Harry Liznick arrived efforts in the Arctic and English Channel. The surviving
in Iroquois Falls on 31 May 1945, one month and one Athabaskans continue to meet on the anniversary of the
year after being torpedoed and just in time to help his loss of their ship onboard HMCS Haida in Hamilton
dad plant for the summer.
Ontario. The wreckage of HMCS Athabaskan has been
located near the island of Batz in the English Channel.
She was found by Jacques Ouchakoff, a French marine
Closing Remarks
“Kriegsgefangenenlager” offers a glimpse of the short historian in 2002 in 90 metres of water.
career of Athabaskan, through the memoirs of a handful Notes
Liznick, “Kriegsgefangenenlager: My Memories of WW II,” The
of her crew. Most did not take the time to document their 1. Harry
Iroquois Falls Enterprise, 28 September-30 November 1988.
story, preferring instead to put their experience behind 2. W.A.B. Douglas, Roger Sarty and Michael Whitby, A Blue Water Navy:
The Official Operational History of the Royal Canadian Navy in the
them or perhaps discount their importance in the war.
Second World War, 1943-1945 (St. Catherines, Ontario: Vanwell, 2007),
p. 506. Stubbs, as captain of HMCS Assiniboine was famous for ramming
Those who did, Harry Liznick among them, have left us
U-210 in an encounter off of St. John’s, Newfoundland, in 1942. A reconwith an insight into life aboard and as prisoners of war as
struction of the incident, painted by Halifax artist Tom Forrestal, can be
found in the Officers’ Mess, CFB Halifax.
an alternative to official historical records.
As tragic as the loss of HMCS Athabaskan was, the
Germans could ill afford to lose T-29 and T-27, on top
of three earlier losses to Allied action. Fuel shortages,
an increased tempo in Allied aerial attacks, and the
mounting strength of Allied naval forces on the southern
coast of England, hemmed in the German naval forces.
German naval forces in the area were reduced to three
large Narvik-type destroyers and two smaller Elbings,
providing insufficient firepower to challenge the invasion of Normandy – indeed, these German ships did not
show their noses. On D-Day, the entire Fighting Tenth
was waiting for them when they ventured out of Brest.
The Germans were sorely outnumbered and the threat to
the invading forces was eliminated in a matter of a few
hours.11
Harry Liznick passed away at his home in Iroquois Falls,
in November 2005 after a long and healthy life living off
3. Douglas, Sarty and Whitby, A Blue Water Navy, p. 229. DeWolf apparently did not hear Stubbs call from the water. It is believed that Stubbs
may have been telling Haida to get clear of the minefield that she was
about to set upon.
4. Joseph Schull, Far Distant Ships: An Official Account of Canadian Naval
Operations in the Second World War (Ottawa: King’s Printer, 1950), pp.
253-258.
5. It would have been unlikely for Allied planes to have attacked the
German rescuers. More likely T-24 set off a mine when she returned to
harbour. See Robert A. Darlington and Fraser M. McKee, The Canadian
Navy Chronicle, 1939-1945, The Successes and Losses of the Canadian
Navy in World War II (St. Catherines, Ontario: Vanwell, 1996), p. 145.
6. See Liznick, “Kriegsgefangenenlager,” for an account of this.
7. As quoted in Chris Lambie, “Don’t Worry, I’m Alright,” Halifax Daily
News, 30 April 2004, p. 4.
8. Len Burrow and Emile Beaudoin, Unlucky Lady: The Life and Death of
HMCS Athabaskan (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1989), p. 149.
Ninety-one bodies washed ashore in Brittany and are buried in nine
cemeteries along the coast; 42 of the bodies have been identified.
9. “H.M.C.S. Athabaskan Survivors Now Reported Prisoners of War,”
Canada’s Weekly, 7 July 1944, p. 387.
10. Liznick, “Kriegsgefangenenlager.”
11. Tony German, The Sea is at Our Gates (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1990), p. 163.
Pat Jessup is the Community Relations Officer for Canadian
Forces Base Halifax and was born and raised in Iroquois Falls.
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